


Goodness in the Galaxy

by jiokra



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Dancing, Deepthroating, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, Massage, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Pilot Parties, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Slow Dancing, Smut, Uniform Kink, X-Wing(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 10:04:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8745946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiokra/pseuds/jiokra
Summary: Since becoming closer to Poe after Starkiller Base, Finn is hopelessly in love but hiding it so to not risk the friendship. It doesn't help that the universe keeps dangling happiness in front of him in the form of Poe teaching him how to pilot and offering to become roommates.





	

Tucked away inside the cockpit of Black One, Finn tried hard to concentrate on the controls Poe expounded on. Poe was perched on a ladder, pressing his thighs against the hull, one arm gripping the shoulder of the cockpit chair, the other waving in grand sweeping motions at the control panel. It was so much easier to concentrate on Poe’s instructions to work the laser cannons in the TIE-fighter when they were both fighting for their lives. Now Finn’s mind was stuck on the smell of leather and musk that was permanently etched in the cockpit and Poe’s distracting scent of soap and an intoxicating spice.

Poe had flown in from a seven day mission that morning. Finn only caught him as Black One entered the hangar because he had nowhere else to be, as he’d been released from medbay on day three of Poe’s mission. Now General Organa had granted him leave from physical therapy to register for a room. He had avoided doing so earlier and overstayed his welcome in medbay, despite how much everyone said it was his home until he found stable housing. He ought to be registering, but he was curious about the infamous X-Wing pilots the First Order had long scorned and villainized in propaganda. The lies were nothing like Poe. Poe was… beyond a word’s limitation. 

The raw energy had reverberated through the hangar as the X-Wings flew back in. Then Finn saw Black One draw in, Poe jumping out, shaking the cramps out of his legs. Poe clapped other pilots on the back, grinning as they exchange barbs, his hair mussed, cheeks reddened, grin bright and infectious. Finn watched from beneath the nose of an X-Wing, in front of a table with various wrenches that Finn passed off to an astromech droid fixing the engine of the X-Wing overhead. 

Poe had happened to peer across the hangar, and though he was so far away that Finn could barely make out his expression, Finn’s breath caught the second they locked eyes. Then Poe raced across the hangar, much like he had after the battle on Takodana, and just like before Finn ran toward him to narrow the distance. 

Finn had intended only to stand parallel to Poe, but once they met, Poe swept Finn into his arms. Intermixed with Poe’s warmth was the stench of sweat and grease. Finn had wrinkled his nose, waiting for the hug to end until he breathed in again, but at the same time, he clung to Poe’s flight suit, head bowed a little and pressed against his shoulder. Poe’s warmth enveloped him. When Poe pulled away, Finn felt bereft in the absent of his embrace. 

A hand still on Finn’s arm and the other lingering on his back, Poe looked him straight in the eye, a corner of his mouth upturned. “What are you doing here? Wait, not that I don’t _want_ to see you—we’re pals—but shouldn’t you be resting?” Poe rubbed his palm softly over Finn’s spine. “We want you stronger and better than ever.” 

Before Poe flew out, Finn had been confined to his room in medbay, allowed leave only to complete physical therapy. When he couldn’t leave, he walked around in his medbay clothes and chatted with droids, or attempted to keep the longing off his face when Poe visited just to talk to Finn, BB-8 uploading new material to his datapad. Poe coming had been the highlight of his day. Sometimes Poe was the only thing that made Finn look forward to lifting weights not even an eighth of what he could lift before Starkiller. It struck Finn as the obvious decision upon being released from medbay: Go to the hangar. See where Poe spent his days. On the day when Black Squadron came back from a seven day mission, seven days without Poe, Finn hadn’t even thought to question it. Besides, not only did Finn genuinely love Poe, but sometimes he forgot Poe didn’t die in the sand pits on Jakku. Or on Starkiller. 

Finn’s back chose that moment to start aching, but with Poe’s palm along his spine, it didn’t hurt as much. 

Of course, Finn couldn’t _tell_ Poe that. He could hardly admit to himself that he was permitted to care for people and could rely on those very same people being alive, breathing, and whole day after day in this bleak galaxy. 

Finn had been quiet for a stretch too long, Poe’s inquiry left unanswered. “Medbay released me today.” 

Poe’s gaze lowered, eyes trailing from side to side. “So you came here, of all places, the hangar?” asked Poe. His fingers curled over Finn’s jacket, which Finn acutely became aware of was originally Poe’s. 

Finn wanted to tell Poe that he only wanted to feed his curiosity over pilots, yet his stomach pinched and part of him screamed that that was a bad idea. “I was curious about X-Wings,” Finn settled with saying. 

Poe smiled crookedly. “Just let me wash up. I’ll come back and show you how to fly one.” 

And thus Finn found himself in the cockpit of Black One, with a fresh, clean Poe smelling of soap and spice when there ought to be a lingering odor of the cockpit. 

Poe adjusted his grip on the chair’s headrest, pressing his weight further into the hull, yet his chest brushed against Finn’s shoulder, his mouth close to Finn’s forehead. Finn stared hard at the cockpit, flicking a look at Poe’s hands—the knuckles, bones, and veins visible beneath his skin, nails short from years of gnawing on them—and then focused on the center stick that Poe gestured at. 

“Your expertise is on the tip,” said Poe, tapping the button over the top of the center stick, situated between Finn’s thighs, his legs descending into the nose of the X-Wing. Poe gripped the stick and mimicked firing off lasers, even vocalizing impressions of the explosions. In order to keep his grip on the stick, Poe leaned his weight into Finn’s shoulder, his mouth so close to his ear that the warmth of his breath sent a shiver rocketing through Finn. 

Finn fixed a stare at anywhere but the center stick. Whenever Poe skittered his fingertips over the tip, gliding his hand down the stick and gripping it, Finn bit his lip to prevent his shallow breaths from being heard. 

“Concept’s a bit like a blaster,” said Poe, chuckling, and the sound had Finn’s heart thudding. “Astromech droid helps you lock onto your target—Finn? You all right there, buddy?” 

Finn blew out a breath, pushing back into the chair and nodding. “Of course. Why?” 

Poe drummed his fingers against the headrest, the vibrations sending shockwaves into Finn. Finn bit the inside of his cheek. “You seem tense, is all. Is your back hurting? How long have you been out?” 

Poe backed away, far enough that his chest no longer pressed against Finn, yet now Poe could angle his body so to look Finn in the eye. His intense stare made Finn feel cornered and vulnerable in the X-Wing. If Poe leaned in and kissed him, dragging his nails along the nape of Finn’s neck, the calluses on his palm and fingers rough against the tender skin, Finn would be under his complete mercy. 

Finn swallowed, suppressing a shudder. “I feel all right,” he said, but was desperate to get out of Black One. He stared at his knee, trying to distract himself from the weight of Poe’s stare. With how small the cockpit was, the futility of the effort only made Finn slump into his seat, succumbing to his entrapment. 

Poe released the center stick, reaching for Finn’s shoulder. “Should we get to med bay?” 

Finn mustered up the energy and looked Poe straight in the eye. “General Organa permitted me leave from physical therapy to find a place to live. I’ve overstayed my welcome at medbay.” 

Poe frowned. “Have you found a place yet?” 

Finn’s gaze averted, and he shook his head, tensing up to prevent the embarrassment from showing up. 

“You came to the hangar instead of finding a room? Finn, you’re so—” Poe laughed, head bowing until his forehead rested on Finn’s shoulder, his laugh rolling through Finn, and—and it went right to Finn’s stomach, his belly fluttering as the mortification intensified. Poe shook his head, leaning away so to look Finn in the eye. “Stay with me,” he said, then added quickly, “I have a fold out mattress.” 

Finn grimaced, yet masked it up quickly. Living with Poe felt like the ultimate dream. The only thing that distracted Finn long enough from thinking about the First Order was listening to Poe chatter about anything, ranging from starfighters to conversations Finn hadn’t anticipated could be so easy. He enjoyed the lack of expectations Poe had of him. Finn didn’t need to hide himself from Poe, or layer his truths with more truths because a defecting stormtrooper was too much for some people to believe at times. Around Poe, Finn just felt like a guy around his buddy whose center stick he’d really like to hold and ride. Finn stared down at the center stick, seeing the memory of Poe’s hand gripping it. He suppressed the urge to swallow. 

Poe tapped him. “Come on, pal. Let’s be roomies.” 

Finn furrowed his eyebrows, staring hard at the control panel, yet his nerves gave out and he glanced at Poe, heart fluttering at Poe’s sly grin and crinkled brown eyes smiling at him. “You’re sure?” said Finn, his voice calm, stoic. Controlled. 

“Of course! Kriff, why don’t you come to the little thing Black Squadron’s having tonight? We’ll double it up as a house warming party.” 

Poe grinned wider, his eyes trailing back and forth as he gazed at Finn. He did that often and each time Finn never knew what to do, so he averted his gaze and went back to checking out the control panel, but the urge to grin back at Poe was difficult to stanch, a small smile peeking through. 

Finn laughed, and when Poe shook his head, murmuring, “Oh, you…” Finn felt the laughter flow freely. “Well, sure,” said Finn. “Okay, yeah! I’ll move in with you. I just need to pack up my things from medbay.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Poe started chattering, talking about how Black Squadron kept inquiring about Finn’s recovery and when medbay would release him and allow the Squadron to meet him once the tension wasn’t heightened from battle. Of course, Poe hadn’t mentioned the tension. But it was apparent to Finn as he’d only met the other pilots in the command center before Starkiller Base, if bluffing his way into a rescue mission counted as making someone’s acquaintance in the Resistance. But Poe’s grin, the brightness in his expression as he looked at Finn, saying how much Black Squadron was curious about him—it made Finn believe that a place existed for him in the Resistance. As long as Poe thought so, Finn felt at ease. 

* * *

Finn didn’t have much to bring from medbay, just the clothes the Resistance had given him—a uniform; civilian clothes, comprised of grey pants, a tan shirt, and dark grey boots—as well as Poe’s jacket, which Finn wore everywhere he went save for the workout room, and an ointment that would get rid of the scars from his back, ease the residual pain still lingering. A debriefing kept Poe from accompanying Finn to medbay and showing him the room himself, so he gave the address and key code for Finn to drop off his stuff and check out the room before Finn left to join Black Squadron in their hang out spot near the hangar.

Setting his possessions down on a clear spot on Poe’s desk, Finn took in the room. 

Beside his stuff were diagrams of all varieties of starfighters, a few photographs off BB-8 in front of flowers with a man who resembled Poe quite closely, ration bars, datapads, a pilot helmet. On the walls were posters for the Resistance, a calendar with unintelligible lines Finn understood to be Poe’s handwriting, a flag for the Republic. 

And one bed, which, Finn thought, was far too big for one person. There were several pillows, around four, and beside the desk was another pile of pillows surrounded by photographs of a blue BB-unit, a month in block letters on the top right hand corner, surrounded by roses. Finn stared, eyebrows drawn. Something about the droid’s coyly tilting half moon head looked oddly alluring—for a droid. 

And were Finn a droid, he might think so. 

Finn presumed. 

With a frown, Finn pulled out the desk chair and sat down, knees wide, and drummed his fingers along the desk, examining the diagrams, white ink on blue graph paper. 

It was so quiet. 

From the ajar window, he could hear starfighters flying past, tree leaves rustling, light chatter. Finn fell into the sounds until he got so lost, he slumped a bit in the chair, relaxing, and his back wound up screaming in protest not a second later at the bad posture. 

It snapped him back to reality. With a final glance at the room, Finn gathered his senses and left for the party. 

* * *

Finn wandered around the hangar, daunted at its stillness. He’d only seen it twice—once before Starkiller and the second time earlier that day with Poe. It was quiet, as if caught in a void, distorted only by the soft whirling of droids exchanging short clips of binary as they repaired starfighters, which loomed overhead with shadows stretching out far, blacking out Finn’s own shadow.

It was odd. In the First Order, had Finn discovered a vacant, quiet stretch of space, his chest would have swelled with gasps of air, overwhelmed by his unsurmountable joy at being isolated from the bucketheads he was conditioned to regard as comrades. But in the Resistance, the quiet had a bittersweet comfort. The silence was hospitable for him to gather his thoughts, contemplate the new reality that was his world, yet he couldn’t help but feel like this freedom wouldn’t last. Shadows of the First Order could still find him, regardless of how safe General Organa insisted the Resistance base was. Nowhere was truly safe while the First Order lurked in space. 

Finn crept out of the hangar and into hallways leading toward rec rooms, the fresher, workout room designated for the pilots to blow off steam. Each room was empty, lights out. He continued on, pace steady despite how his heart seemed to pound quicker at the darkness’s seemingly infinite depth, unnerved at how little could be seen, how much could be hidden in the dark. He slowed to a halt in the middle of the hallway when he heard music and ruckus laughter. 

An ajar door cast the hallway with beams of light. Finn stood there for awhile, just watching it. Through some cantina music, he heard Poe shout out, “Hey! I’d like to see you manage plowing through all that vegetation, you… nerfs.” 

Finn sucked in a breath, and he felt embarrassed at how much just hearing Poe’s voice affected him, yet he still smiled as Jess berated Poe for calling them all nerfs and Poe’s response of, “Right. You’re right. I should take a drink.” 

Finn didn’t want the context and didn’t even need it. He stopped himself from jogging toward the light only due to the years of training which kept him in check. He traveled down the rest of the hall at a leisurely pace, gently cracking open the door and slipping in. 

Everyone was gathered at a round table, sitting on tables pulled up close or sitting down in chairs, which were mostly tipped on two legs or flipped around so their chests were pressed against the back. Bottles of a dark liquor sat in the center of the table, everyone watching Jess as she tried to coax one of the bottles toward Poe. 

Poe looked—damn good, Finn realized, his stomach sinking a bit. His hair was mussed, probably from Poe scrubbing hands through it. He was one of the few people sitting with his chair facing the correct direction, even if his posture would have sent him into reconditioning. His knees were parted wide, one hand drawn over his chair and tapping behind the back of Karé’s. His green officer’s jacket was discarded over a table and the top buttons of his shirt undone. As he leaned back, his tanned shirt was stretched over his torso and chest, outlining muscles Finn didn’t know Poe had. 

Finn fell back against the door, slamming it shut. 

Poe caught his eye just as Black Squadron noticed him. 

“Finn!” cheered Jess. “You came.” 

Snap slipped out of his chair, nodding to it before settling on one of the surrounding tables. Finn made his way over, waiting for the jitters in his stomach to settle, yet everyone was smiling and laughing and not bothering to restrain their emotions. The violations they were all committing kept flashing through his mind. His therapist’s voice rang in his ears, reminding him that the Resistance wouldn’t recondition him for expressing emotion. He wasn’t a clone. He was human. Yet he still kept his pace steady, his eyes slightly averted. 

It was so much easier to be a functional human being when he was with Rey and running for their lives. Finn could do running for his life. He couldn’t do aimless socializing, its purpose nothing but living. With all he knew about the First Order and the dangers ahead of them all, it felt too reckless. Still, he took Snap’s old seat, relaxing as much as he could to blend in. He glanced around the table, trying to match the faces to pictures and names he’d studied in datapads. 

When he caught Poe’s eye, everything—the obsessions, the anxiety, even that blasted cantina music—melted away. 

All he could focus on was Poe’s brown eyes, crinkled at the corner as he sent a smile Finn’s way. Poe had survived Kylo Ren’s mind probe and still had the strength to smile. It took Finn’s breath away. 

“So Finn, Poe was just filling us in on what happened when his transmission cut out,” said Jess, coyly turning to Poe and wagging a liquor bottle. “He’s refusing to answer.” 

Poe groaned, throwing his head back. Finn was dumbstruck at the sight of his neck stretched out, his throat exposed. Finn was overcome with the need to bite, kiss, and lick a trail from the bob of Poe’s throat to his lips, grabbing his hair and yanking, keeping him still. Finn blinked, glancing at the various bottles. 

Snap tapped his shoulder. “It’s not the best, but it’s still some decent rum.” 

Finn furrowed his eyebrows, staring at the amber liquid, but then Poe sputtered out laughter and Finn smiled without restraint. He glanced at Poe, who was waving off Jess’s bottle, and turned his smile to Snap. 

“Why not?” said Finn. 

And one drink turned into two, which turned into three—and somewhere between his second to the last drink and Poe’s outlandish, evolving tall tales about what _really_ made his transmission cut out—Finn was seeing double. He sat frozen in his chair, as if Phasma were circling him and staring him down with her glimmering, impassive helmet, and smiled as Poe tripped over his own words. 

Then Jess tapped his shoulder, conjured out of thin air. “Finn, it’s my favorite song! Join me!” 

Finn had no idea what he was meant to join until she’d dragged him off the chair and brought him closer to that awful, rabid cantina music. Their hands clasped together, Jess raised them high over their heads as her body swirled, curled, and twisted in tandem to the music, bringing a life out of the discordant rhythm Finn hadn’t realized was there. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his arms slack and at the mercy of Jess’s direction. 

Not before long others joined, either matching Jess’s movements or loitering around with drinks. Finn watched Jess’s hips twirl in complex movements, listened to her sharp laughter as it fought to drown out the music, and it must have been the alcohol because he didn’t jump or startle when a hand curled around his waist, tugging him away from Jess. A hand detangled Finn from Jess, and Finn glanced up, seeing an arm with the sleeves folded up just shy of an elbow. Jess winked at him before spinning off. 

The man tugged Finn toward him, Finn spinning around in reflex, and suddenly Finn was face to face with Poe. His breath caught, his hand feeling too warm all of a sudden. 

Poe stretched out their joined hands, settling a palm on his shoulder. Finn tried to do the same, but it was a tangle of limbs, so his hands settled further down Poe’s back. His fingers felt awkward in Poe’s grasp and on his back, if fingers could feel awkward, as Poe’s heat ensnared him. 

Poe’s eyes were trained on Finn. All four of them, which settled back into the ordinary two as Finn furrowed his eyebrows and focused his vision. “Y’know,” said Poe, a smile tugging at his lips, “I never pegged you for a good dancer, but I also didn’t think I’d ever meet someone who made me look good at it.” 

Finn’s chest bloomed with laughter. “Don’t get too excited. It’s my first time.” 

Poe squeezed his hand, stepping closer. “Maybe one day you’ll teach me then.” 

Finn tried to stop laughing but his ability to smother his emotions had gone away sometime after his third drink. He didn’t care in the least, not when Poe’s smile started growing, his gaze lowering and whisking back and forth. Poe bit his lip at the corner. 

Finn wanted to kiss Poe so bad. He wanted to tell Poe how much his strength, ferocity, and perseverance meant to him. Poe’s dedication to seek out the light and goodness in the galaxy inspired Finn to take those first steps in physical therapy when he just wanted to stay in bed and lie to Kalonia about his progress. But Finn was _buddy_ and _pal_ , and he might have lived his entire life controlled by the First Order, but he knew a lost cause when he saw one. With Poe staring at where Finn believed his mouth was, holding Finn close, he wished that he had the gall to believe Poe could feel the same. 

Poe sucked in a breath, shaking his head and casting off his grin. “Do you like spinning? Maybe we could spin.” 

“Spin?” 

“Yeah, you’ll love it! It’s great!” 

Poe slipped his hand from Finn’s shoulder and tucked it at the small of his back, Finn coaxed into settling his palm over Poe’s shoulder blades. Poe smiled, biting the corner of his lip, then pressed his weight into Finn. Finn stepped away, Poe’s hold on his back sending him around, and they danced in circles. Finn had no idea where they were headed or who was behind them, yet Poe guided them across the dancefloor as if Finn were the starfighter that he now flew. “Okay,” said Poe, slipping his hand from Finn’s back, “here goes spinning!” 

It was great—speedy and a swirl, and surprisingly flawless despite their even heights. Yet just before Poe’s hand found Finn’s again, a muscle in Finn’s back cried out in protest. The pain was likely nothing major, Kalonia had mentioned that it could happen and to apply the bacta ointment, yet the pain tore across Finn’s back, fiery and agonizing, and Finn fell forward. 

Poe let go of his hand and caught him tight with both arms. “Buddy?” 

Finn tucked his forehead onto Poe’s shoulder, breaths evening out as the pain receded. Poe smelled amazing. “I guess my back’s not a big fan of spinning.” 

“Oh, kriff. Finn, I’m so sorry. I forgot. I got caught up in— We should get home. You need to rest.” 

His mind buzzed at, “Home,” yet something in him withered at the thought of leaving. Poe wanted him to meet the Squadron and so far Finn had hidden behind rum. But the thought of collapsing into bed and relaxing his back was alluring beyond reason. 

“You’re sure?” said Finn. “You’re not disappointed?” 

Poe chuckled, right in Finn’s ear. Only the pain in his back stopped Finn from shuddering. “Buddy, I’m never disappointed when I’m with you, and right now you need to rest. Your health is more important than anything.” 

Finn thought long and hard about that, even after they’d said their goodbyes and dodged attempts to be cajoled back into the party. Poe, his favorite person in the universe, thought his health and comfort was more important than anything. 

The knowledge somehow pained him. 

* * *

The walk felt quicker with Poe even despite the pain in his back, but he knew it must have been awhile because he’d sobered up substantially in the journey. Poe entered in the key code without a hitch, so it couldn’t have been the pain knocking sense into him. Once they got inside, Finn ambled over to the desk and leaned over it, intending to get the bacta ointment but winding up pressing a palm to his lower back. He willed down the pain to a dull ache by pressing slow, firm circles. He kept doing so, staring absently ahead, until the door snapped shut.

Poe leaned against the door, foot tucked over his ankle. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” 

It was the other way around. The buttons on Poe’s uniform were all done up to appease Black Squadron into letting them leave, looking official and commanding. His shoulders seemed broader and his chest down to his torso lean and strong. His black hair was in an alluring, enamoring disarray. Somewhere between scrubbing his hands through it to avoid questions that only got him to drink, his curls had started to come out. 

Finn looked down at himself, trying to see what Poe saw, but he was just in the leather jacket and boring grey clothes, which were some of the plainer civilian clothes the Resistance provided as they were the only items that went well together and also didn’t have a hint of white or black. He was nothing special. Frankly Finn didn’t mind seeing his face in the mirror, as he was so used to the helmet, shocked every time he saw flesh and not armor. But while he was by no means hideous, he couldn’t compare to Poe, who was so handsome and charismatic, his smile getting everyone’s heartbeats racing a few parsecs faster. A little part of him thought, _Maybe Poe disagrees. Maybe I’m more than just “buddy” and “pal.”_ He felt the itch to get up, pace, nerves riled up. He stepped away from the desk, but then he felt another pull on his back. Finn couldn’t bite back the groan before it came up. 

“Finn?” 

He stumbled, brain blinded by the pain. 

Poe rushed over, slipping an arm around his back and guiding Finn to sit down on the bed. He leaned into Finn, rubbing circles over his back. Poe’s touch was electrified by Finn’s longing for them to be like this, so close and alone on a _bed_ of all places. The emotion went—Finn closed his eyes, hating that the impulse his brain had— _Right to my center stick._ He should be banned from X-Wings, effective immediately. 

“Kriff, I knew we should have gotten you to bed. Finn, I’m sorry.” 

Finn needed the ointment, but he couldn’t very well ask Poe to do it. “It’s okay. Do you have a fresher?” 

“Sure. Over there.” 

Finn rose up, ambling over to the desk to snatch off the ointment, but he’d barely made it to the fresher by the time his back acted up again. 

Poe was up and over to him in no time. He set a hand on Finn’s shoulder and another on his arm, holding him before Finn realized what was happening. 

Finn felt so exposed with Poe this close, giving him his undivided attention. He had half a mind to realize that there wasn’t anything he could ask that Poe wouldn’t agree to do wholeheartedly. Right now Finn just wanted to lie down and let this ointment cool his back, but there was no way he was asking Poe that. Stealing a TIE-fighter was a reasonable question. Asking for help saving Rey and getting her off the Finalizer was also reasonable. Asking for a back massage was an inquiry Finn regretted asking before he even posed it. 

Poe frowned, his eyes worrying at the corners. “Finn, you can trust me.” 

When he gaze fell, Finn hated that by now Poe was likely searching for things he’d done wrong, whether he made Finn uncomfortable in any of the time they’ve known each other. He set aside his pride. He squeezed Poe’s shoulder, capturing his attention, and ignored that Poe leaned into his touch. 

Finn felt his heart ache a bit when Poe gnawed on his lip. He shook the hand holding the ointment. “I have this medicine, some cream for my back. It’s supposed to help.” 

“Were you going to do that in the fresher?” Poe looked Finn clear in the eye, then glanced away. “I know it’s a bit forward of me, but if you don’t mind, I can put it on for you. You can relax on bed. It’s gonna be difficult to do it yourself, you could sprain something.” 

Finn’s stomach swarmed with nerves. “You’re sure?” 

Poe tapped his shoulder gently with a fist, grinning. “Of course! What are friends for?” 

Finn smiled, but somehow his gut still felt hollow. _What are friends for._ He should probably tell his cock to calm down in X-Wings then. 

Poe and Finn went back to the bed, both just staring at it. 

“I guess you’ll have to take off your shirt,” said Poe. 

“I guess so.” 

“I could take off my shirt. Even the playing field.” 

Before Finn could process that, Poe was already toeing off his shoes and unbuttoning his coat. He set the jacket over on the chair and started removing his shirt. At the sight of Poe’s chest hair, Finn forced himself to focus. He set down the ointment on the bed and began stripping, slipping off the jacket and his shirt, draping then over the bed’s railing. He relished in the insubordination of not sitting down to untie his shoes, instead toeing them off as Poe had done. Then he just stood there, too enthralled and scared at the possibility of seeing Poe almost naked and feeling equally apprehensive about feeling Poe’s bed sheets—the ones he potentially jerked off on, to solely women for all Finn knew, statistically speaking—against his bare skin. 

“Whoa,” said Poe. 

Finn jolted, spinning around. 

Poe, lips parted, was staring at Finn’s groin. Finn shifted his weight, scratching his belly self-consciously. Poe shook himself. “Buddy,” said Poe, but Finn didn’t really hear him because he could only focus on the lean, toned muscle along Poe’s arms and chest, his abdominals which Finn just wanted to lay his head on as he held Poe’s cock and worked him up. His nipples looked amazing amidst his hair and defined pectoral muscles. Finn kept staring at them, imagining them in his mouth. 

“Whoa,” Poe said again. He took a step closer and every hair on Finn’s body stood up. “Get on the bed—I mean. I mean, you should lay down. On the bed. For your health.” 

Finn nodded. “As friends? Because you’re my friend.” 

Poe clicked his tongue. “My bestest most best friend in the galaxy, pal.” 

_Pal._

Finn gingerly sprawled over the bed, looking out toward the wall. Though he couldn’t see them, Finn imagined the muscles on Poe’s legs. He didn’t quite know what to do with his arms, feeling ridiculous at how they laid there beside him. Poe sat down, his hip touching Finn’s, the bed dipping from his weight, and Finn’s cock stirred. 

Poe grabbed the ointment, the top spinning off. “Did they tell you how to put it on? I mean—shoot.” 

Finn tried to shake his head, but the motion was futile. “Wherever there’s scar tissue, they just said to put it there.” 

“All right. Okay.” There was a weird slippery noise. “Warming it up a bit.” 

Finn shut his eyes, then jumped when Poe finally touched him. The ointment felt amazing—warm, as Poe had said, and it immediately started soothing the aches. Poe’s hands slid over him, pressure firm in a delicious way. Even though Finn felt him move in areas he didn’t think there was scar tissue, he didn’t really care and also didn’t want Poe to stop, not in a million years. 

Poe shifted on the bed. “Do you mind if—uh.” 

“Mind what?” 

“Well, just the angle’s a bit odd. I could probably—probably do better if I sat on—” 

Finn gritted his teeth. The last—as well as the most desirable—thing he wanted was to be trapped in Poe’s warmth like in the X-Wing, especially now that Poe was not touching a center stick. He was touching Finn. Finn’s cock grew hard as soon as he admitted that to himself. 

“Or not.” Poe laughed shyly. “I’m sorry for making this awkward.” 

“No, no!” Finn said in a rush. “It’s not awkward. Not at all. This, what you’re doing, is amazing.” 

Poe’s hands went away, Finn missing them instantly, and were replaced by Poe perching his thighs on either side of Finn, sitting down just below Finn’s ass. The pressure, his weight—it felt so good that Finn ended up groaning without realizing what he was doing. 

“Did I hurt you?” 

Finn swallowed, shaking his head futilely again. “No. It feels really good actually.” 

“Cool.” 

Poe got some more of the ointment, his hands warm and the pressure firm as he worked it into Finn’s back. The scar tissue ran from Finn’s hip to across his spine, ending just below his shoulder blades. Poe’s was palm smooth over the sturdy muscles along Finn’s shoulders down to the sensitive, more intimate area by his hip. Poe worked at an easy, consistent pace. Soon Finn was buzzing, his mind drifting as he got lost in the pleasant sensations. Poe started kneading on his lower back where the scar tissue was more intense from the lightsaber’s first strike, but his kneading wandered away from the scar. His touch was intoxicating, Finn lost in it, and though he knew they were friends, Finn wished he could return this favor to Poe. But with Poe’s health in pristine condition, there wasn’t an excuse to do so. 

Poe found a knot in his muscle, focusing the pressure on working it out. Finn’s breath caught, surprised at the minor pain, but then the knot released and Finn moaned. 

Poe’s hands stilled. 

Finn closed his eyes, pressing his face further into the mattress in attempt to hide it. “Sorry.” 

“No worries,” said Poe, his hands never leaving Finn’s back. “I guess I got a bit out of hand. I should apologize. I’m sorry.” 

Before Finn could protest this, Poe slipped off him, the mattress groaning beneath them, and left the bed to rush for his shirt. Dizzily, Finn sprung up from the bed, his back no longer screaming, but the massage had made him so relaxed that it took a moment for his mind to acclimate to sitting. Finn watched Poe rush to button up his shirt. 

“Sorry, that wasn’t right of me,” said Poe, snatching his jacket and buttoning it up, despite that he hadn’t even finished with his shirt. “I took advantage of you. You didn’t even ask. I pushed myself. I'm sorry.” 

Finn had no idea what he was talking about, but he hated seeing Poe apologize for messing things up when Finn had been the one to make Poe’s help into something it wasn’t. Finn stood up and bounded over to him. He grasped Poe’s arm. Poe halted mid-buttoning. 

“Poe,” said Finn, voice pitched low and serious. Poe didn’t meet his eye, head down and staring somewhere at their feet. “Poe, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m the one who ruined it. Thank you for helping me out. My back feels a lot better.” Poe still wasn’t acknowledging him, and Finn started getting incredibly concerned. Poe was a man who flew right into enemy fire with little back up, or clear into a lightning storm with only bravado and book smarts on his side. Finn shook Poe’s arm, trying to capture his attention, and when that didn’t work, Finn followed the line of his gaze. 

He squeezed Poe’s arm again out of a reflexive bout of fright. 

His pants were bulging by his groin, his erection fighting through the zipper. The first thing that flooded from his mouth was, “That’s not what it looks like,” even though he recalled the pleasure that had built up in him while Poe had massaged his back, the pressure of Poe on his thighs, pushing him into the mattress. 

“It looks like a—” 

Finn looked up at him, and Poe followed the movement. The sight of Poe in a half buttoned shirt—and the bottom hole on his jacket skipped, the jacket buttoned up lopsidedly—had his heart thudding, mouth eager to kiss the hollow of Poe’s throat just above his collarbones, kiss a path down his chest as Finn unbuttoned everything. His cock grew harder, pressing against his trousers. He stared at Poe’s lips, stance wavering a bit. 

Then Poe bit his lip, laughing, and crashed into Finn, cupping the back of his head and tugging him into a kiss. Finn’s dizzied mind didn’t register it even while his eyes closed and he kissed back, his senses lost only in the feeling of Poe nipping his lips, coaxing him open for a wet, open mouthed kiss. Poe’s fingers curled into his hair, scratching his scalp, and Finn collapsed against him, grabbing the lapels of his jacket, the buttons burning cold against Finn’s bare chest. His tongue met Poe’s, then he woke up a little and bit lightly on Poe’s bottom lip, taking a step back and luring Poe to the bed. 

Poe maneuvered around him, falling down on the bed and tugging Finn to sprawl over him. As Finn fell over him, Poe exhaled sharply, then hissed back in air. Finn panicked a bit, worrying that he’d crushed Poe with his weight. As he made to pull away and ask if it was too much for Poe, Poe hooked his ankle over Finn’s thigh, nails scratching harder at his scalp and coaxing Finn’s head to the side, exposing the length of his neck. Poe tore away from his lips, kissing and biting along his neck. 

It was like an electric shock fired through Finn, starting at the spot on his neck, then a fire by his ear as Poe bit him there, tongue and lips soothing away the pain. The fire coursed all throughout his body, toes curling and hips rutting against Poe before he realized he’d done so. Finn’s hand took a life of its own, grabbing Poe’s hair and holding him still, as if he wasn’t already trapped beneath Finn. 

Finn scratched Poe’s scalp, smiling when Poe’s kisses slowed. He smirked. “Shouldn’t we be heading off back to the party? My back’s better now.” 

Poe groaned, tearing away from Finn’s neck with a _pop_. “They’ll manage. Don’t worry.” And then he was back, biting Finn’s earlobe and sucking it hard between his teeth. Finn’s grip on his hair slackened, his muscles turning soft and pliant, and Poe wheezed a bit as Finn surrendered his weight to him. 

Finn fought through the pleasure to muster out, “Are you all right? Should I move?” 

“Fine,” Poe whispered, right into his ear. A shudder raced through Finn. 

Then Poe traced a line along Finn’s spine and tucked his hand beneath Finn’s pants—which came with much ease as all the belts the Resistance had were black, and so Finn refused to wear them—and squeezed Finn’s ass, kneading with the same care and attention as he had on his back. Finn ground his cock against Poe’s thigh, and pressed harder when Poe’s breath hitched. 

He yanked at Poe’s hair, pulling him away from his ear, and kissed his neck lightly, working his way down Poe’s throat until he kissed along his collarbones and chest. “Isn’t it against regulation for the Commander to ignore his squadron?” said Finn, and sucked on Poe’s chest. 

Poe breathed shallowly. “Probably.” 

Finn massaged his scalp, Poe’s throat bobbing as he shifted unsuccessfully beneath Finn. 

Poe’s cock pressed painfully against Finn’s tender thigh. Finn got lost in the sharp, agonizing waves, then thought better of it. He slipped away from Poe, popping off buttons as he kissed down Poe’s chest to his stomach, sucking hickeys over his belly and pressing kisses over his navel. Poe reached numbly for his hair. 

“Don’t know how to dance, but you do know how to do that,” mumbled Poe. “Oy.” 

Finn fussed with Poe’s belt, kissing his hipbones. “We did socialize from time to time in the Order, you know.” 

He left Poe’s belly to wrestle his pants down his thighs and free up his cock. Poe was so hard, he slipped out fast, his cock whacking Finn, come smearing along his chin. Finn licked his lips, getting a sense of Poe’s taste. He felt hungry for Poe, the feeling heightened at the realization that Poe wanted this as badly as Finn did. Whatever the reason and emotion Poe felt for Finn, it was just like Finn’s. It mystified him. Not only that someone had grown to care and love Finn for he knew that was possible after meeting Rey and the Resistance. But it caught him off guard that Poe could desire and need him as much as Finn did. 

He wanted to know the reasons. He didn’t understand any of it. But that would come later, after he satiated their needs at the present moment. Finn kissed Poe just above his balls. Poe’s fingers flinched against his scalp. Smiling, Finn kissed his way sloppily to the tip, swallowing Poe down until he was flush and hot in Finn’s mouth. 

Finn relished in the Poe’s choked groan, the nails scrapping at his scalp. Finn was reaching his limits in no time, close to gagging on Poe, and his reflexes kicked in, making him beg for air. He pulled back, breathing harsh from his nose and swirling his tongue around Poe. He traced along the hood and pressed firm circles on the salty tip, quickening when Poe groaned and struggled to stay still beneath him. 

Finn pumped in and out, grasping Poe in his hand and focusing all his attention on the head. When he sensed Poe coming close, he pulled away and sucked hickeys onto his thighs. 

“Kriff, Finn, who are you?” 

Finn then took him in deep, so deep he gagged. When Poe let out a wretched moan, Finn took him in deeply again and again, not the least bit insecure over how much he was gagging, since each time Poe dug his nails into Finn’s scalp. When Poe came, Finn swallowed it all up, not having another choice and not wanting another choice, regardless. 

He collapsed against Poe’s thigh, drawing shapes on his skin. When Poe came back to his senses, he palmed at Finn’s shoulder, urging him up to the pillows. Finn settled beside him. When Poe drew his arm across the bed and patted his chest, Finn bit down a grin and rested his head on Poe’s chest, a mess of bare skin and clothes he’d forgotten Poe was still wearing. 

Poe placed his hand along Finn’s spine, drawing lines. 

As they laid there, nerves settling down back to normal, thoughts started haunting Finn. He glanced up at Poe, who stared up at the ceiling, and tapped his fingers on Poe’s belly. “Poe, can I ask you something?” 

“Anything, buddy. You know that.” 

He closed his eyes, then figured he had little else left to lose. “What do you see in me?” 

Poe’s hand stilled on his back. “Wait, seriously?” At Finn’s silence, Poe sighed. “Okay, we’re serious. Well, recent developments aside, I don’t know…” 

Finn froze, his heart feeling like it’d been stabbed. Poe pressed his hand flat on his back. 

“That came out wrong,” said Poe. “And I do know. I’ve always known. Since we first met, actually.” Poe pulled away, turning on his side. He glanced down at Finn’s mouth before meeting his eyes. “I put up a good front, but I’m not actually that happy. It’s kinda hard to be when some of my best friends are dead, and the new ones could die at any moment.” Poe kissed Finn, slow and tender. He rested his forehead against Finn’s. “When I met you, I thought: This is it. I doomed the galaxy, the Resistance. That… thug scrapped through my thoughts like he was pulling weeds out of a garden. I couldn’t stop it. But just when I thought: This is it. That’s how it ends for me. Suddenly there’s a trooper who’s so kind, so noble enough to think my ass is worth saving. And you know why he saved me? ‘Because it’s the right thing to do.’ My mom always said there’s goodness out there even when you think the galaxy’s gonna end. I always told myself she was right, but I didn’t believe it until you.” 

Finn hadn’t expected to hear that, and though he didn’t see himself as half the man Poe believed himself to be, he wasn’t about to call Poe a liar. Besides, Poe never lied to him. He went above and beyond to be true to Finn. Somehow Finn must believe Poe’s words, even if everything in him resisted. 

Not knowing what to say, Finn elected for abstaining. He caught Poe’s lips into a kiss, starting out as innocent as before, then he fell onto his back and pulled Poe over him, digging a hand into his hair and grabbing his ass while Poe held Finn’s face in his palms and nipped his mouth open. 

Neither were much for speaking the rest of the night.


End file.
